


Ruin Me

by harrythepotter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bruises, Cutting, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-01 11:34:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10920987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrythepotter/pseuds/harrythepotter
Summary: the bruises marring his skin give him something to live for."ruin me, ruin me, taste my copper between your wine-sweet lips," he begs.





	1. prologue.

The first time the sharp blade meets flushed skin, he nearly passes out. (or, perhaps, he did pass out. He doesn't dwell on the details.) Rubied beads appear at the edge, and it's a sight to behold. Lovely, lovely copper, warm to the touch.

He smears it on his fingertips, lets it sit. If only the wizarding world could see him now, with a faint smile on his lips, and crimson smeared on his skin.

He's too broken to fix, no matter what they all say.

Harry almost laughs at the ridiculousness of it all, _almost._ Here he is, holed up in the bathroom of the Gryffindor dormitory, mere inches away from four other sleeping boys, making himself bleed. It's a thought, and no, he mustn't let himself get caught.

The slight hiss of the sink in the silence of night catches him off guard, but he won't let it faze him. He blankly watches as the clear water turns pink, then clear once more when his wound is flushed out. He's hardly made a mark, and it'll heal on it's own. A surface wound. Nothing to see here.

The dormitory floor is chilled underneath his bare feet, even in the dazed heat of late September. He's been back at school nearly a month, and why didn't he do this sooner? It cleared his head, at least, made him forget the nightmares for a few sacred minutes.

A creak from the bed on his right makes him pause, a hasty breath sucked in between his plump lips as he stands, awkwardly, in the dimmed moonlight. But no, it's only Dean shifting in his sleep, so he's safe for now.

He wraps the army knife in a cloth, tucking it back into his trunk for the time being. (It seems that Sirius' gift finally had a use.) He'll need it again, he supposes, if he wants to continue this act.

And oh, he _does._ The sight of sanguine fluid leaking from unblemished skin makes his mouth water, a hunger for something unknown filling his very soul. He _loves_ it, he's absolutely _smitten,_ he's _infatuated._

Comforter and quilt pulled taut around his shivering body as soon as he clambers back into bed, he turns his gaze to the moon, blinking innocently at him from the night sky out yonder. He wishes he could be as free as it, he wishes he could sprout wings and fly away from his worries and woes.

And as Harry sleeps fitfully that night, and wakes up in a cold sweat at around six, as his hand clenches around his wrist, he imagines himself among the stars.

Oh, what a life to live.


	2. i.

The only thing he can feel is the slight breeze dusting across his neck from the open window beside him, his head completely lost to the sound of Professor Binns droning on about who-knows-what. The rest of him is numb, so numb, and he's almost glad not to feel anything.

Hermione's got her eye on the ball, but when doesn't she? She's noticed him, the way he acts, the way his hands shake when he's re-potting in Greenhouse 4. She's always been a noticer, but he wishes she would just look away and leave him to his own devices. 

Something thunks the back of his head just then, and he leans down from his chair to grasp it in his hand. A balled up piece of parchment, as innocent as any of them come. But someone had the inclination to hit him with it, didn't they?

He knows the mere sound of crinkling paper won't disturb Binns from his lecture, so he slowly unfolds the parchment, smoothing it out on his desk.

**_You'll need to know about the 1867 Goblin War to pass your NEWTs, Potter._ **

Harry's brow crinkled in confusion, and he immediately looked over in Hermione's direction. But no, she was too immersed in her notes, so it couldn't have been her. Besides, the only one who ever, _ever_ calls him Potter is . . .

He twisted around in his seat to eye Draco Malfoy across the room, who looked like he was busily taking notes as well. But yet, there was a small something twitching at the corner of his lips, and he looked up to catch Harry mid-gaze, pointing toward the front of the room.

Harry scowled as he turned back around, glaring down at the parchment on the desktop. He then scratched out a note of his own underneath the first.

_Like I'm going to need to know shite about the Goblin Wars once I become an Auror. Go bother someone else, Malfoy._

He then turned and lobbed it in Draco's direction, smacking him right in the forehead. Draco looked quite annoyed, to which Harry shot him a grin and turned back around. But not a second later, he was hit again, and he opened the parchment with a frustrated sigh.

**_So what if you get a case where the victim's motives were based around a Goblin War? You're not going to know anything about them, and you'll get fired._ **

_Since when d'you show concern about me losing a future job?_

**_I'm just trying to get you to care, Potter. I know it isn't an easy feat for you when it comes to schoolwork._ **

_Get lost, Malfoy._

**_Considering Granger's looking in your direction, she'd like you to learn about Goblin Wars as well._ **

Harry peered up from the wrinkled piece of parchment to see that, indeed, Hermione was surveying him with a strange look. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Ron gave a rumbling snore from Hermione's other side, and she turned to prod him awake instead.

_Technically, we shouldn't be passing notes in class._

_**But yet, you continue to do so anyways. You could've just ignored my first note and sunk back into your zoned-out state, but here we are.** _

_Well, class is almost over, and I hardly know anything about Goblin Wars. I'd like to think you were partly the cause of that._

_**You wouldn't have learned anything anyways, even if we weren't passing notes back and forth. I'll tell you what, though. To make up for my 'inconvenience', so to speak, we'll meet on the third floor at about eleven forty five this evening, so I can give you a bit of tutoring on such an important subject. Deal?** _

Harry hesitated, lips pursed as he thought. Did he really want to do this? Get tutoring from Draco, when he could so easily ask Hermione? But a part of him itched to adventure, to get away from the mundaneness of his regular days. 

_Fine. But don't expect me to be a good student._

The sneer that Draco shot him across the classroom was plain malicious, but Harry merely gave him the finger and turned back around. The class was over, anyways, and it was with his mind buzzing that Harry filed after the other students into the hall, wondering what, if not tutoring, Draco had in store for him.


End file.
